Damn, if you venture on the French side of rap, rare are the occasions where something is as powerful as its American counterpart. Lo and behold, Prince Waly, brings the NYC conversational 90’s flow to the forefront, full of internal rhymes, offbeat pauses, and deadpan wisdom, usually the servings of a young Nas, Rakim, or early Jay-Z.
Myth Syzer, usually on the electronic side of hip-hop production, tones down the blips and J Dilla bass booms, to deliver a beat that sounds like Premier meets Pete Rock in the summer of 1992. A scratched sample from slain Harlem rapper Big L crowns the chorus while Prince Waly spits cryptic reflections on street smarts, moral implications of crime, and hopeful yearning. Soul music for soulless times.